Surviving Tragedy
by eagles1254
Summary: There is a new man in charge at the Chicago Tribune. His name is Logan Huntzberger, and he is intriguing. Why is he different? What tragedy caused him to look that way?


Elena Marjanovic was intrigued. She was getting a new boss, and he was coming today. She tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder and unbuttoned a button on her turquoise blouse. She was hoping to make a good impression on this boss.

He arrived at noon, nearly on the dot. She heard the buzz before she saw him. "Did you see the new boss?"

"He's _young_!"

"And cute."

"I've heard he's a player."

"Really? I heard he has a kid."

"It's probably from promiscuous sex."

Elena rolled her eyes. There was no place like a newsroom for ruthless gossip. A room filled with reporters specifically trained to dig for a story meant that rumors flew around like mosquitoes in a swamp. She sat at her desk and tried to work. She was pulled from her attempt at labor by a smooth baritone. "Excuse me, if I may interrupt for a moment?"

She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. Was this her new boss? He had tousled blonde hair. He was moderate height, thin and muscular. He wore a navy shirt and light blue tie underneath his classy black suit. A subtle gold chain hung around his neck, hidden mostly by his shirt. His lips were playing in a small half-smile. "Logan Huntzberger," he extended a large tanned hand.

Elena looked up and met his eyes. She almost got lost in the caramel depths. On the surface, they held a playful twinkle, a teasing jaunt, but underneath there was maturity and something else, something Elena couldn't place. Finally she took his proffered hand, "Elena Marjanovic."

His hand was large and soft, the handshake firm. Elena met his eyes again. This time she did get lost in the mysterious hazel surfaces, trying to place the unidentified emotion in his eyes.

He cleared his throat, and Elena blushed, having been caught staring. Logan's eyes crinkled at the corners, and his mouth twitched into a small smirk. Elena's chest tightened. He was physically perfect, a virtual Greek God. He could turn on any girl with one smirk and a glance from those hazel eyes.

"Anyway," Logan segued. "I'll be your new boss. Can we meet at three to discuss some things?"

"Absolutely," Elena agreed. "I'll see you then, Mr. Huntzberger."

He smiled down at her, and she noticed again how his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. It was sexy. "Logan, please, Mr. Huntzberger is my father." He smiled mirthfully, but it didn't reach his puzzling eyes. He rapped his knuckles on her desk before turning and entering his office.

Immediately, Elena's desk was swarmed with fellow female reporters. "Is that the kid Huntzberger?"

"What did he say?"

"Is he as cute as he looks from far away?"

"What's he like? Do you think he's still a playboy? Do you think any of us could get a lay out of this?"

Elena sighed and shut her eyes. This is what she got for being known for her uncanny ability to read people's facial expressions, body language and eyes. She pushed back from her desk slightly and leaned back in her chair, waiting for the stream of questions to subside. She could feel a pounding headache coming on fast.

"Alright," Elena finally interrupted the clamoring throng of women. "Whoever can get me Advil for the monster headache I have will get their question answered first."

The ensuing fracas nearly broke a lamp and did knock her laptop off her desk and her off her chair. They all rushed madly back to their desks digging frantically for the little canisters of pills.

The victorious woman was one a year or two older than Elena, thirty-five maybe, a reporter for the sports section. She handed Elena the white tablets and small paper cup filled with water. Slowly the other women filed back, realizing their defeat.

"Okay, so what was your question?" Elena asked, once she had downed the Advil and water.

"So, is he the Huntzberger?"

"Yeah, he is Logan. Yeah, he's cute. Yeah, I think he was a player," Elena wanted to get the major questions out of the way.

The moment she stopped speaking a clamorous noise arose, and Elena was sure it would alarm Logan. Sure enough, no more than thirty seconds later, he turned the corner that led to his office and locked eyes questioningly with Elena, the only woman of the thirty or so that he knew.

"Sorry, Logan," she said guiltily, as the women surrounding her fell into complete silence.

Logan's mouth twitched into a half smile. "Don't worry about it. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"We'll quiet down," Elena promised.

Logan smiled, "I don't want a mutiny on my hands, here, so I'm just hoping that you're not plotting against me."

"This isn't the Black Pearl," Elena joked. She was not prepared for what she saw. From the little she knew of Logan Huntzberger, she had expected a hearty laugh or, at the very least a sincere smile. Instead his face was so taken by pain that it looked as though he might drop dead of a broken heart right there. She even thought his eyes became glossy from tears. He smiled tightly and nodded curtly before turning on his heel and striding back to his office.

Elena looked after him, frowning in consternation momentarily before chalking it up to another mystery of the increasingly puzzling Logan Huntzberger. She turned back to her colleagues, and they began their incessant questioning again, this time in hushed tones.

"What's his deal?"

"Why'd he storm off?"

"Is he still full of teenage angst or something dumb like that?"

"Does he think his life is hard or something? He's filthy rich, and everything's been laid out for him."

Elena looked at her colleagues who were sending dirty glares at the space where Logan had disappeared from just moments before. She suddenly felt a pressing need to defend this man that she didn't even know. She didn't even understand why he acted the way that he did, yet she couldn't help but come to his defense immediately.

"I don't know. From what I could tell, he's had something traumatic happen to him recently. He's got this maturity, this aspect I can't place in his eyes. It's in his body language and his face too. He's got those laugh lines, but when he laughs or smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes."

When the work day ended that night at five o'clock and Elena was stepping out of her building onto the Chicago sidewalk, breathing in the humid August air, she decided she would figure out Logan Huntzberger. She had her base clues, and she would observe and extract until she got it.

Then, she would ask him out.

* * *

Today was the day. It was October 17, and she was ready. She knew that Logan had accepted dates from many girls at the office, and she was deeper than any of them, better than any of them.

She fidgeted all morning at her desk, waiting for Logan to arrive. It was late when he finally got there, around ten thirty. He didn't look like his usual put together self. He was wearing a blue dress shirt and khakis with a black blazer, thrown on rather haphazardly. His blonde hair was more messy than tousled, but his eyes struck Elena as he made eye contact and nodded a greeting.

The teasing jaunt, mischievous sparkle that she had noticed on his first day at the office was gone, replaced by a dull stare. Every day for the past two months that he had been at the small Chicago paper he had smiled that smile that didn't quite reached his eyes, but those eyes had always danced with mischief. Today they were dull, and he was different. Very different. Elena was almost afraid to approach this man, so unlike the man that she had come to know.

At three thirty Logan left his office after receiving a phone call from an unknown person during their meeting and mumbling excuses before hurrying away. Elena made her way back to her desk confused at Logan's actions. Almost immediately women swarmed around fighting for position to hear the story. "I don't know what happened," Elena explained wearily. "I really don't. He got a phone call and rushed out. I'm sure he'll be back later. It's time for my lunch break."

Elena stood from her chair and pushed through the sea of women impatiently. As she walked down the Manhattan street to a small sandwich shop, she wondered why she had grown so agitated so fast at the women's questions. She was used to be questioned about people's actions because of her uncanny ability to read and interpret. She entered the shop and sat at a table without bothering to order. Dropping her head into her hands, she rubbed her temples, trying to ward off a headache.

Why was she so deeply affected by the change in Logan's attitude? Why did she care so much about this man's emotions? Sure, she had been planning on asking him out for tonight, but she wasn't expecting anything more than a nice date and a good time. She had talked to girls at the office, and none of them had gotten anything more than a fancy dinner.

When she returned to the office an hour later, she had calmed down somewhat, although she still hadn't answered her own pressing questions. Her head was still pounding, and she still didn't know what was wrong with Logan, but at this point, she couldn't bring herself to care, either.

She didn't see Logan again that day.

* * *

Things returned to normal after the 17 of October, and Logan was back to being his usual jovial self. Elena couldn't seem to erase the image of the man who had been at work that day from her mind, and it took her a long time to again work up the courage to ask him out. Finally on March 24, she took a deep breath and knocked on his door. When he called her in, she asked if he wanted to join her for dinner that night. Not meeting her eyes, he declined, and no more than ten minutes later, he had left the office for the day.

Elena dropped her head into her hands in consternation. She didn't understand why she had the worst luck with Logan. The man was incredibly good looking, and it took a lot of courage for her to summon the courage to stand up to him like that. She had managed to do it twice, and both times she had been denied. The first time he had come into the office looking like hell warmed over, and she hadn't even dared to talk to him because he looked so bad, and this time she had held her breath in and her head high and asked him; he had shot her down.

She didn't understand why; she knew that he had gone on dates with other girls from the office, and she was better than a lot of them. She was intelligent, witty and fairly attractive, but he wouldn't go out with her. It wasn't fair. She wasn't looking for a relationship, just a nice night on the town. From what she had heard from her colleagues, he would take her to a nice dinner, and they would make nice conversation all night, and he would be very chivalrous, gentlemanly and sweet, but he wouldn't sleep with anyone. That was fine with Elena; she wasn't looking for a one night stand with her boss. Sighting, she gathered her things and left the office. Her boss had already left, so he wouldn't know that she cut out early anyway. She knew that she wouldn't get any work done with her mind working on overdrive.

The next morning when Elena came into work, she found an email from Logan asking her to meet him in his office at three o'clock.

When the hour rolled around, she stood, straightened her clothes and entered his office. He gestured for her to sit down in an armchair across the room from his desk. As he made his way from his work seat to the adjacent armchair, they exchanged pleasantries. After he sat down, he dove right in to his explanation.

"Yesterday, March 24, was my wedding anniversary." Elena went to interrupt, to say that she hadn't known that he was married, but Logan held up a hand, stopping her words. "This explanation might seem arbitrary and unnecessary, but it will all make sense. Can you just try to let me talk please? I just need to get it out without being interrupted.

"We had been married for under two years when I got the call. It's inexplicable to get a call and hear 'there's been an accident' when your seven months pregnant wife isn't home. I knew it was all over." Logan sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Rory died on January 17, 2010. They saved my daughter. Her name was going to be Stephanie Lane Huntzberger, but I couldn't do it. She's Lorelai 'Rory' Lane Huntzberger." Elena was shocked to see tears spring to her boss' eyes.

"Before I met Rory Gilmore, I was _the _playboy at Yale. I partied and slept, both alone and accompanied, my way through my freshman and sophomore years. I had a job laid out for me, Elena, when I left school. To put it in perspective, I left for my first job in London the day after I graduated from school. There was no point in trying.

"I met Rory at the beginning of my junior year. She didn't fall for my charms or my looks or my name. I saw her again a few days later; I didn't remember her, but she remembered me: she hated me. Back then, I thought one thing: what Logan Huntzberger wants, Logan Huntzberger gets, and Logan Huntzberger wanted Rory Gilmore." Elena didn't miss how his jaw clenched and his eyes were taken by pain. He didn't have the one thing he wanted most anymore, and no amount of money could buy it back for him.

"Rory was beautiful: chestnut hair and the brightest blue eyes. She had curves which was new for me—usually I dated plastic girls who didn't eat. At first it was pure physical attraction and intrigue. But I fell hard for her. I even know when I fell for her: it was when we were still in a 'no strings' arrangement and she came to some party with this asshole we knew. I was so jealous I could barely see. I fell for her intelligence, her kindness, her sharp wit, her cutting sarcasm. With Ace, it was the little things: the fact that she would eat as much as she wanted in front of me, her addiction to coffee, the way she always brought home my favorite flavor of ice cream when she went to the grocery store, the way that when it was her turn to pick dinner she'd always pick some of my favorites. It was the way that when I woke up in the morning, I would turn on the coffee maker, and I'd go back to the room, and she'd be awake. It was our morning routine: she'd shower and then she'd let me in for the last few minutes—sorry, that was a bit intimate—and then she'd do her makeup and stuff while I showered. It was how we ate breakfast together every morning. When I was done getting ready, my everything bagel would be covered with cream cheese next to a glass of orange juice across the table from her Cocoa Puffs and coffee. It was the way that I proposed to her at four thirty in the morning without a romantic dinner or a flower or candle in sight, and it was perfect. It was the way that she always prepared my favorite dinner when I got home from business trips."

Logan sighed. It didn't look to him like Elena was comprehending what he was trying to explain. He ran a hand over his face and tried to figure out how best to convey his message to her. Before he could, the door to his office burst open, and a five year old tornado hit him with a shriek of "Daddy!"

"Hi Angel," Logan said, his face softening. Elena was shocked. This little girl made Logan look much happier than Elena had ever seen. Logan kissed the girl on the head before turning her in his lap to face Elena. "Elena, this is my daughter Rory. Ror, this is my friend Elena."

The caramel eyes that stared back at Elena were frighteningly familiar. They were Logan's eyes on a different face. The small girl smiled (it reached her eyes; she didn't know the tragedy Logan did), revealing a large gap where her two front teeth would have been. Logan immediately noticed, "Oh, Ror, you lost the other one?" he exclaimed excitedly.

Rory swiveled her small body in Logan's lap to look at her father and to show off her new gap. "Yeah, see the big hole?"

Logan nodded. "Did you keep it for the tooth fairy?"

Rory nodded, proud of herself for remembering. Logan patted her on the head and looked at Elena. He took a deep breath before he asked an interesting, thought provoking question. "What do you notice about me?"

An answer immediately popped into Elena's mind, but she thought hard before she decided to voice her opinion. "When you smile, it never reaches your eyes."

Logan nodded as though he had expected that answer. When he spoke a moment later, it was the most heartfelt, open words that Elena had heard come from his mouth. "I had someone who made me smile to my eyes, who made me laugh till I cry, who was not only my wife and better half, but also my confidant, my soul mate, my best friend, and I lost her. I loved her more than I thought possible. The small part of my heart that she doesn't have, Rory, my daughter, has." He squeezed his daughter, before he reached around his neck and unclasped the mysterious chain that always hung there. Extracting the piece of gold jewelry from underneath his collar, something caught on his tie. He loosened it and unbuttoned the top button, releasing the chain. Elena immediately saw that the offending objects on the chain were two rings. Logan passed her the chain. "It's Rory's engagement and wedding bands: read the engravings if you want," he said gruffly.

Elena spun the engagement ring first: "For you the world, my Ace-3/24/07". She looked questioningly at Logan. "Ace was my nickname for Rory. She was a reporter, an Ace reporter. You know the _Boston Globe_ articles by Lorelai L. Gilmore?" Elena nodded. "That was Rory."

Elena gaped at Logan. "She was fantastic," Elena gasped. "She was my journalism idol. I was devastated when I heard the news."

Logan nodded his head in consent. Elena backtracked. "I don't know if devastated is the word," she said, hesitating. "I was upset, but I'm sure I don't know what devastated feels like."

Logan smiled and motioned toward the wedding band in interest of full disclosure. Blushing at her verbal miscue, Elena spun the ring, reading the inscription aloud in a soft voice: "You jump, I jump, Ace-3/24/08".

"Although I didn't know it at the time," Logan began in explanation. "I first felt more than physical attraction for Rory when we jumped off a seven story structure together. It took quite a bit of convincing to get Rory to try it. Finally I said 'Do you trust me, Ace?' and she said, 'You jump, I jump, Jack'—she was quite the movie fanatic. She made crazy references left and right. Hence…" Logan trailed off, lost in memories.

"So that's why you left when I made the Pirates of the Caribbean joke," Elena surmised, fingering the rings. She looked up at Logan who was stroking his daughter's chestnut brown locks with his left hand while his right was holding his daughter secure on his lap. There, on his third finger, contrasting starkly against the silky brown of Rory's hair, was the telltale glint of marital gold. Elena was surprised that she hadn't noticed it before. She had solved her mystery, though: her boss was heartbroken. That mysterious, almost haunted look in his eyes was unbelievable, incomprehensible sadness. "I get it," Elena smiled. She stood and strode toward the door. When she reached the threshold, she turned around. "Logan, I didn't know. She seems fantastic."

Logan smiled sadly, still running his hand over his daughter's hair. "She was."

Elena nodded. "And Logan? I'm sorry."

Later Elena looked through the glass door to Logan's office. Seated together on the leather couch were Logan and Rory. She was nestled in his lap, eyelids drooping as Logan read from _Frog and Toad. _He was devoted. He was a wonderful man. Rory Gilmore must have been one stellar girl and definitely one lucky girl.

* * *

A year later, on October 17, Elena offered to watch Rory while Logan visited his wife's grave. Elena became Logan's daughter's primary babysitter and a good friend of Logan's. Two years later on October 16, Logan took Elena to dinner. After they finished, they both ordered coffee, and Logan looked intently across the table at Elena. "I want to say thank you. Ever since that day when I explained everything to you, you have been incredible. Rory adores you; having a female role model has been truly fantastic for her. You are a fabulous woman, Elena." Elena tried to interrupt him, but Logan raised a hand to stem the flow of words. "Please just let me finish. You're a great girl, and occasionally, I think of asking you on a date, but I can't. It would be unfair to both of us. I'm still one hundred percent devoted to Rory's memory. So, selfishly, I ask you, could you please be around for Rory—my daughter, obviously—she's grown to love you as her mother. I'm just asking for a couple hours a week. I know asking this is unbelievably strange and awkward, but I'm doing it for Rory. I'd be more than willing to pay you, if you like."

"That's ridiculous," Elena couldn't let him go on any longer. "I'd love to spend time with Elena. I love her."

"Oh thank you," Logan was more relived that he could imagine. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, knowing that Rory was watching and lovingly guiding him, and silently thanking his best friend. He was happier than he had been in a long time. He knew Elena would become one of his best friends, right up there with Colin, Finn and Steph. When he looked back down at Elena, he smiled.

It reached his eyes.

* * *

The next morning dawned sunny and bright, and Logan left Rory with Finn and Elena—the two had become very close. Logan hoped they would eventually get together. They'd be good for one another. He visited his favorite flower stand. It was on the side of the road on the way to the cemetery where Rory was buried. It literally was a stand, and the sign at the top was emblazoned with 'Stan's' in large red letters.

Logan got out of his car and surveyed the selection. He finally settled on a bouquet of daisies; Rory had always loved daisies. "Ah, daisies for the missus today, Logan?" Stan asked.

Logan smiled and nodded. His relationship with Stan was idyllic. Stan was sure that his life was perfect—he pulled up in a Porsche every time, and Logan was just Logan to Stan. He wasn't treated any better because of his name. After Logan paid Stan, the proprietor smiled at him. "Well, tell me if she likes them," he commanded.

"Will do," Logan mocked a salute at the man and then got back into his car and continued on his way to Rory's grave.

He pulled the car to a halt at the end of the row. He always enjoyed a short walk before he got to her grave, just in order to get himself in order and in the proper mindset to see his wife's grave.

He gets there and traces a finger over the words, as he always does, and as always, the tears spring to his eyes. _Lorelai Leigh Huntzberger: A loving daughter, a caring mother, beloved wife, soul mate, best friend._

As he always did, Logan pulled his wallet from his pocket and extracted his picture of Rory from it. After she had died, he had found this photograph of her smiling at him as he slipped the engagement ring on his finger and had written a passage on the back; he always read it to her when he visited her grave: _Ace, I told you one that you can live 100 years without really living a moment; I realize now that every moment I spent with you I actually lived. The rest of my life will be simple existence without you because living is not jumping off a seven story structure or a cliff in Costa Rica; living is sprinkling a pinch of cinnamon in the coffee because you know your wife loves it; living is late nights spent talking, limbs tangled and heads close together; living is being so much closer, so much more connected to another human being than you ever thought possible, living is trusting another person with anything, everything, with your heart; living is being in love. Ace, you'll have my heart forever and for always. All my love for eternity Logan_

He set the daisies carefully against the stone, loving how they spiced up its dull gray color. Rory would have wanted the tombstone to have a lively look—then again, she probably would have named it as well. "Hey Ace," he said quietly but definitely aloud. "It's been awhile. I've missed you, though. I'm sorry that I haven't been in so long, but things have been crazy. You know how I told you about Elena, well I had dinner with her last night," Logan paused and sighed contentedly. Since Rory had died, he had only ever been happy when he was with their daughter and when he was talking to her at her grave. He knew she was always guiding him. He continued to tell her about Elena and how much Rory would like her. "The best part, Ace," he began to wrap up his monologue, "is that I think she and Finn have things for each other. They're going to get together I bet." An older man walked by and glanced at Logan sympathetically; Logan nodded hello and continued to talk. Those who frequented the cemetery knew his story, and they were used to hearing him sit just talking at the grave, as though it might just help. "That would be wonderful, too; they'd be so great for each other. That's pretty much all that's happened. Rory's doing really well; she loves Elena, but I tell her stories about you every night, and she loves to hear them." He paused.

"I love you, Ace," he carefully selected the present tense, as he always does, because he always wants Rory to know that he still loves her. He stops talking and lays his blonde head back against the cool stone. Peace overtakes him, and he is finally content.


End file.
